Glamorous Indie Rock 'N Roll
by teendream
Summary: Loosely based on the Crazy Relations challenge or something like that.
1. Glass House

A/N Ummm...another story. It's going to be multi-chapter fic! And the story title has nothing to do with the story whatsoever. I just like the song. Heh.

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The party is in one of those tragically chic glass houses in order to take advantage of all that Connecticut had to offer. Which, if you thought about it, amounted to nothing. The driveway is crammed with dozens of Mercedes, Porsches, Lexuses, Lambourgini's, Ferrari's and every other luxury vehicle known to those few who had enough dough to buy one.

She parks a little further away from the house and steps out of the car, feeling a little silly. Here she is, studious Rory Gilmore, going to one of those loud, obnoxious parties that was probably illegal.

Pushing the thought out of her head, she smooths her silk skirt and walks in the front door. Extremely loud music is booming from the house, possibly doing damage to said house. She really doesn't want to think about that.

She rings the teeny tiny doorbell. A guy answers, a little tipsy, clutching a crystal flute of something alcoholic in his hand. You know it's a party thrown by someone rich when every is holding crystal glasses.

"Who are you?" he slurs out the question.

"Oh...umm...Rory," she says.

He nods as if the name means something to him. "Oh, yeah. Rory! Come in," he says though they have never in their lives met one another.

It is one of your typical rich college parties. Keg overflowing, loud music, random people making out, snorting lines of coke and God knows what else. It's like high school, except most of them are actually legal enough to drink. Frankly, she doesn't know how she ended up here.

She tries to find him to no avail.

People bump and crash into her as she tries to weave through the thick crowd.

Instead, he somehow finds her. Of all the things.

"Ace! You came!" he says. He seems to have inebrieted more alchohol than the guy that let her in.

"Yeah..." she says looking around at the mayhem.

He comes towards her. "So, are having fun?"

"Not so far," she replies.

He lets out a little laugh. "C'mon," he says and grabs her hand. Before she can say aything else, he drags her off to another part of the complex.

It's a spacious room with a convenient bar complete with a bartender and plush sofas. It's obviously the 'hang out' place of the party.

People are spread out lazily over the sofas, talking and sipping their drinks. As if they didn't have a care in the world.

"Sub party," he explains as if that made sense.

"Because the party outside is so incredibly boring," she remarks rather sarcastically.

He just gives her a little smile. She hates when he gets so smug about certain things.

"Logan, sweetie!" coos a pretty blonde who walks over to them, her voice a little too loud.

"Hey," he says, placing a smile on his face. It's a smile to plactate the blonde since she seemed to have her feathers in a ruffle.

"Let's talk over here, okay, darling?" says the blonde then procedes to grabs him and in a minute, they vanish.

She looks around now, wondering what to do. Right now, she feels completely awkward. After minutes of mental pros and cons, she walks over to the bar.

"What'll you have, miss?" asks the bartender politely.

"Oh...um...club soda...please," she responds tentatively.

He looks surprised, but just nods and begins preparing the drink anyway. He mumbles something about _designated driver_ under his breath.

"You haven't changed at all," a guy laughs. His face is tilted away from her as he drinks from a champagne flute.

"Really? And how would you know?" she asks getting riled up. The bartender hands over her club soda watching the pair from the corner of his eyes.

He turns over her to her, a slow grin spreading over his handsome face.

Rory could only stand their gaping at him as they stare at each other with the intensity that they have always had in each other presence. There was tension in the air that you could cut it with a knife. The man hadn't seen her in a long time and had zeroed in on her the minute she had walked in. She didn't seem to have changed after all this time and for that he was a little grateful, but there was sadness in her eyes that he would've loved to get rid of.

"Because I know you," he replies.

A/N I think it's very obvious who it is. Very. Well, there goes the suspense. I was never good at writing that. :sighs:


	2. It's A Small World After All

A/N Ohh. I'm sorry, you guys aren't slow. My writing wasn't that clear, I'm sorry again. Dude, Lady Eliza rocks. The end.

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"Hey."

"Hi."

They have slips of tongues, shy smiles, and awkward silence.

She keeps on glancing over at him, making sure that he's really there. That he is actually sitting right next to her.

"It's nice to see you again," she says finally.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too."

There is the silence again, holes the in conversation and unresolved issues hanging between them.

She opens her mouth to say something, but he interrupts her.

"How's it been?"

"Fine," she goes with the standard response. "You?"

They're stalling and they know it. They'll busy themselves with the idle small talk before delving into their messed up history. Or maybe never.

"Good. It's been going good."

"You look great, you know," he adds.

She blushes,. "Thanks. You too."

Pauses. Long pauses.

"Ace!"

A picture of blond drunkenness bounds towards them.

His hair is mussed and his shirt is wrinkled. His wide bloodshot eyes glance over at them quickly. It's clear what he's been up to.

"Hey there. You've met my cousin, right?" Logan aks.

Rory glances at him. "Cousins?"

"Tristan?"

"Mary?"

"Ace?"

"What?"

"How the hell do you know her?"

"How do _you_ know her?"

"Logan? Tristan went to Chilton with me. Chilton as in my old high school. Tristan? Logan is on the newspaper at Yale with me. You know how Disney says, 'It's a small world after all'? Well, apparently that's true."

"What? You didn't go to Harvard?"

"_Harvard_?" asked an incredulous Logan.

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A/N Reviews make the world go round! 


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